Short King
by GashouseGables
Summary: Not yet Cullens, Archie and Jessamine reach a few differences they have to settle ...


Jessamine watched as Archie took great care in sewing the torn button back onto her blouse. She felt a little foolish - she could have seen every thread give way as the button ripped off. It had sprang into the air as though given sentient life, and it had given Jessamine some moment of amusement, until Archie's deft fingers caught the button in the next moment, a dark look on his face as he handed her his coat and instructed her to put it on.

Jessie sighed as Archie sat on the bed, his back to her as he fixed the button. It was just difficult; clothes never lasted long on the battlefield, and she surely didn't keep track of such things as a nomad. There was a strange mix of emotions from him - embarrassment and some sadness, but mostly annoyance. He had made the blouse especially for her, after all. He cared a great deal about showing her all the delightful human details they would immerse themselves in daily.

"I _am_ sorry." She announces to the room. It had quite spoilt their morning, after all, as now the sun was too high to risk the walk. Archie had planned on taking her to a cafe to practise feigned eating.

But Archie's emotions ebbed and receded like the tide as, with each pass of the needle, the button was reattached to the fabric. He turns his head to smile at her, bright and sunny as the sky outside the window. "It's no matter - I only wish those great oafs hadn't goaded us so." He says with a sigh.

Jessie's fun with the button had been witnessed by a few men on the street with them, and with their hearing it was easy to hear the jives and sniggering at them both.

"_Oh, peach is a lovely color …." One man had spoken highly of the brassiere that had flashed for a moment at the loss of the button._

"_Oh look, her wee man's to the rescue!" Archie tightened the coat around her shoulders, and tucked the button into his pocket._

_Jessamine apologies lightly as she's shooed back towards the hotel, taking Archie's arm and holding the coat closed with the other._

"_Good of her to take her neighbor-boy for a stroll."_

Jessie frowned lightly. She hadn't much cared about their comments - it was all irrelevant when she had been alarmed by Archie's immediate displeasure. At which, she had thought was more her ruining the clothes he'd lovingly made for her.

She hadn't realised their words had cut him, and feels a steady cold seize through her chest.

"I will get rid of them, darling." She assures him, rising to her feet to grab her coat and the large brimmed hat Archie had picked for her as the most flattering, despite the unfashionable largeness of it. No petty humans had a right to upset her Archibald, especially considering she did not by all rights find forsaking human blood easy.

But at that, Archie laughs and plucks the hat from her head. Amusement washes over the annoyance, which makes her pause. "Never you mind that! I'll have to get used to it. It won't be the last time." He explains with a sigh, but as his amusement still outweighed the shame.

"Those words didn't worry you?" His eyes were gentle, and Jessie frowned. She didn't particularly remember human society or standards. That was what Archie had to teach her again.

She feels at a loss to explain. She was a little taller for a woman, she supposed. But strength, speed, control and diligence kept you alive, both as a soldier or a nomad. Archie having survived up until now, completely alone, spoke more of his prowess than height ever could.

"What does it matter?" Jessamine asked, frowning slightly. "When you never change, you don't …" she holds up a hand vaguely, gesturing downwards. Other vampires would barely take stock of his height, surely - his talent, that would be forefront - his yellow eyes more so. "Your love is the only respite I have had in hundreds of years." She says, feeling it inadequate to comfort him. Until Archie beams, and his affection wells up in her chest like her own, easing her probably more than it did himself. "But it embarrasses you, my height." She says apologetically.

"_No_, _my_ height embarrasses me." He says sternly, tapping her cheek and narrowing his eyes. "I want to stand up next to you proudly." He says, sighing in exasperation. "I don't want people thinking you're my governess."

Jessie shrugs, though she did not know the last word he had spoken. "I don't care for people." Now it was her turn to look stern, crossing her arms over her chest. "You told me that until I had more control, I should try and distract myself from them as much as possible. You're not helping." She reminds him, her expression is a cold mask.

It has the desired effect; Archie easily laughs, but every time she elicits the sound from him, she feels more victorious than any win on the battlefield. "I'm sorry, Jessie, you're right." He agrees with a bright grin.

He sits back at the bed, inspecting the perfectly sewn button with his critical glare. She watches him, glancing down at her bare shoulders. She had given up the blouse to be mended but had not bothered to wear another. Her scars shone stark and ugly. She knelt on the bed behind him, lips pursed.

"... I don't care for people." She repeated quietly. "But these Cullens … you'll see, when we meet anyone else aside from Petra and Carlos." Archie turned to her at the mention of her oldest coven-mates. Looking concerned at her obviously bothered attitude. "My scars will scare them, all these bites … I'm disfigured." She explains gently. When you come into this life flawless marble; anything to permanently mar your skin was damaged indeed. "Standing next to you, I will look like a beast. Would you not feel shame for me?" She asks him. Humans were irrelevant - but a coven he wished to join? Perhaps would take him, and his immense gift, but may reject an old soldier for their own safety.

Because he will see, should they find this fabled family. How reviled, how brutal, she was compared to polished stone.

But for her affected manner, Archie gives a slight chuckle. "Be serious!" He scolds her, turning back to the blouse. "My warrior." He added affectionately. His stark refusal to understand that to others she was not desirable, flattered her a little. But it would only mean a harder example when they did find these other yellow-eyes. But for now, with just the two of them, she settled, able to tuck her longer torso around his back like a cat, content as he leans a little against her.

Archie was holding the cloth to the light and plucking off another very loose button. "You must learn to be gentle with them, Athena, or we'll have more accidents." He adds casually, picking up his needle again. Jessie hums, much more enthralled by his fine, broad fingers manipulating the thread than his words.

Archie was short, he was right, but he wasn't small. He was thick and stout, his shoulders broad, and his large hands gave him away as much as his adam's apple did. Like a racehorse jockey, his arms weren't as long as Jessamine's, but much thicker muscled, despite her more savage past.

She watches as he holds the button just so, in fingers that would just as easily be able to crush the metal as keep it steady. He enjoyed focusing on tasks such as these; the human need to clothes themselves was a source of endless delight.

But she was growing less and less delighted with his attention being elsewhere.

"Perhaps, less like Athena," she began airily, "I believe I'm more suited to the Amazons."

Archie chuckles, "yes, yes, ferocious." He agrees easily.

Jessamine continued in a light tone; "Except I believe, perhaps they would not take me. I still have both breasts, after all."

At that, Archie glanced at her, still in only her skirt and brassiere and Jessie wasn't sure who the coil of desire in her belly originated from. She would have been worried at how entwined their emotions became, as though his heart was under her skin. But she enjoyed the sensation too much to find herself wary of it.

Archie smiles a little and tilts his head. He carefully puts the fixed blouse to the side and Jessie crawls up and wraps her arms around his shoulders. Now mostly perched on his lap, with her long legs still tucked behind him, she leans down and their lips meet sweetly.

She runs a palm over his shorn head, the sensation of the stubble as soothing as his answering purr.

"I think you're at the _perfect_ height." She says, playful, as she leans forward until the swell of her breasts press against his jaw.

He laughs again, a gleeful relief, as, ever the gentlemen, he craned his neck to press kisses onto her collarbone.

* * *

A vehemently object to the idea that Jessamine is shorter than Archie - it's not only ridiculous but unnecessary


End file.
